Ace Combat Zero: The Belkan War  Novelization
by PasternakCFA44
Summary: For many years, Cipher has eluded our understanding as a mysterious battlefield legend. Or has he? This is my interpretation of Ace Combat Zero: The Belkan War. See the world and the events of the war through his eyes. This is his story.
1. Interview 1: Galm 2

-Transmission start-

25th November, 2005

Near a disputed border

"Oh him?"

Although softly spoken, those words carried a large significance that seemed to dwarf the rhythmic pounding of artillery and chatter of machine gun fire somewhere in the distance. The front lines were 15 miles from here but there was still a war going on, and it was telling us never to forget that fact.

"Yeah, I know him."

We were in a small, dilapidated dwelling that resembled the empty shell of a house. The windows were all smashed in, rubble and glass occupying various parts of the room, bullet holes were riddled in all types of arrays, and there was a nasty hole in the wall that was probably caused by a ballistic projectile or explosive. A similar hole in the ceiling acted as a improvised skylight and provided minimal light into the room, casting a gray iridescent glow across everything it touched. I was grateful for the light, since it improved the visual quality of my interview.

"It's going to take a while,"

I re-examined the man I was interviewing. I took notice of the short brown hair, hardened brown eyes, and cleanly shaven chin. He was wearing a light brown leather jacket with a darker brown sweater underneath and long pants. Heavy-looking boots were his choice of footwear.

"It happened years ago."

He is sitting on a metal fold-up chair in the middle of the decrepit room, legs splayed out, leaning on an assault rifle with his left arm resting on the magazine clip. His head was inclined from the camera, the lower jaw mechanically grinding at some gum he had been chewing. He now turned his head to face me.

"Did you know," he asked me, "there are three kind of aces?"

No, I thought.

"Those who seek strength," he lifted his left hand, thumb sticking out, "those who live for pride," he stuck out his index finger, "and those who can read the tide of battle." He concluded his list with the raising of his middle finger.

He paused for a moment to look at his protruded fingers, "Those are the three," he said as he put his hand down, "and him...he was a true ace."

He was a fighter pilot they called 'Solo Wing Pixy'. He was a colleague of the man I seek.

Ten years ago, there was a war that engulfed the world: The Belkan War. And in that war was a pilot who trailed across the sky, and disappeared from history. He was a lone mercenary who inspired both fear and admiration.

He is the man I seek.

And so, with the words of 'Solo Wing', the curtain rises.

"It was a cold and snowy day."


	2. Dreams and an empty stomach

_**Time - Mid-afternoon**_

_**Date - Unknown**_

_**Location - Unknown**_

_The rugged walls of the canyon flash by the glass of my cockpit, nothing more than a brown blur in my peripheral vision. Most of my attention and concentration is fixed on the Su-27 I am currently pursuing. I am unable to aim and fire an AIM-7 Sparrow missile because of the very short distance that we were currently seperated by and I cannot utilize my 20mm Vulcan cannon due to the danger of ricocheting debris from the narrow walls of the canyon. The Su-27 pilot I am chasing is very adept at navigating the narrow canyon without crashing his aircraft. But despite his admirable skills, I can smell the fear radiating from his aircraft, mixing in with the odor of the jet fuel exhaust. I was in total control of this dogfight and he was on his last legs trying to shake me off his tail._

_That was when he made his mistake._

_The other pilot pulled up and accelerated to try outrun me, but I just mimicked his simple maneuver and it put him directly in the AIM-7 Sparrow's firing range. I heard the high pitched tone whine in my headset indicating a good radar lock and I instinctively hit the Weapon Release Button. A small jerk indicated that the missile unattached itself from its weapon pylon and started streaking out towards its unsuspecting prey. I watched as the Sparrow flew straight as an arrow and blasted up the Su-27's tailpipe, causing a massive fireball to erupt._

_"WOOHOO!" I shouted, feeling the unmistakable euphoria of claiming an air-to-air victory. I've never felt more alive; I felt I could take on an an entire squadron. _

_I...felt...invincible._

_That was when I made MY mistake. (How ironic)_

_Instead of mesmerizing at the missile streaking towards the target, I should have banked away and confirmed the explosion after it actually happened. The reason for this is so that your aircraft will not be caught in the resulting explosion and be torn apart by the debris that would have immediately resulted from the explosion itself, which is exactly what happened to me when I realized my mistake a tad bit too late. _

_"Oh shit Shit SHIT!" I swore._

_I tried to pull up but to no avail as I flew right through the debris and I could hear the sickening screech of metal tearing through metal as the debris of what was once my adversary's aircraft tore mine into shreds. Smaller fragments struck the plated glass of my cockpit, scoring huge scratches and causing spiderweb-cracks to appear. Flaming jet fuel spilled all over the damaged glass, further distorting my view of the outside world. Upon exiting the inferno, my aircraft shed almost all its airspeed and began to spin into an uncontrollable stall and the warning buzzer started screaming into my ears. I grappled with the controls and the throttle to regain some form of control over my aircraft in vain as the altimeter on the Heads-Up-Display read the change in digits in alarming velocity... 1000 ... 800 ... 600 ... 400 ... 200 .. 150 .. 100 .. 50..._

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><p><strong>March 31st 1995 – 1445 hours.<strong>

**Valais, Ustio**

I woke up.

Breathing heavily, with sweat pouring down my head, my eyes quickly took in the first thing it saw: a piece of paper covering my entire face, sufficiently blocking my oxygen intakes in my mouth and nose. I reached up and pulled it off my face with one hand while the other hand rubbed my eyes and tried to conform them to the harsh, bright light that was stinging my eyes.

When my eyes came into focus, I saw a dark gray sky, littering snowflakes in the air. A small stream of steam blew out of my nose and mouth, flowing away in a parallel direction as the snowflakes. I sat up on the park bench which I had been reclining on and took stock of my surroundings, which happened to be a park in the throes of an elongated winter, snow blanketing the ground in a thin layer, clinging onto some loose branches of trees that long for the liberation of spring.

Mesmerized by the calming scene, I almost forgot about the piece of paper that had conveiniently lodged itself in my face while I was sleeping. Instictively, I unfolded the wrinkled edges and tried to make sense of it. The piece of paper had print that had faded away considerably, but I was still able to make out the words: "Join the Ustio Air Force! Mercenaries welcome!" Below the words was a once flashy picture of an F-15C and F-16C soaring through the skies.

The moment I saw the planes I thought back to my dream, the adrenaline from the vivid scenario still coursing through my veins. I remember the extreme surge of euphoria from shooting an aircraft down. It was almost as if it was...calling me out; Drawing me towards a destiny I have (literally) dreamed about.

I refocused upon the poster once again. "Join the Ustio Air Force! Mercenaries welcome!"

Mercenaries? I thought a country's armed services were restricted to its citizens and permanent residents, so why would the Ustio government decide to openly hire mercenaries?

Suddenly, a short but powerful burst of pain shot through my head. It was almost as if someone had driven a red-hot poker through my temples. I fell out of the bench onto my side, half-holding and half-grabbing my head as I clenched every facial muscle in expression to the agony. Through the periodic bursts of pain, I could also hear words that were slightly distorted; I could hear voices as if someone was whispering into my head.

"In...this...time..."

"We...have..."

"A...weapon..."

"More...powerful..."

"Our...final..."

The voices slowly faded away along with the throbs of pain. I lay in that position for a couple of minutes breathing slowly and trying to calm myself from the experience. Although I could remember what the voices in head said, none of it made sense to me. I couldn't piece the whole picture in my mind. I decided to leave it until later, not wanting to spend any more mental energy on the matter until a more pressing concern had been solved.

As I got up and sat on the bench again, a very audible growl escaped my stomach, clearly telling me that it needed the attention of something edible. I instinctively reached for the back pocket of my trousers and pulled out a thin, black, leather wallet. It felt really warm since I had been sleeping on it for...however long I had been sleeping for. That slightly disturbed me; I don't remember anything that had happened prior to my dream and awakening on the park bench. Did I have amnesia? Did I hit my head and forget everything? Or did I get too drunk? I opened my wallet to look for some form of identification. There was nothing inside other than $30 in cash. I tried to dig into my head, searching for memories that will explain what happened to me and how I got here and possibly who I am. Nothing. The only lead I had was the whispers in my head, and that obviously led nowhere.

I stood up, coming to a decision. Since I had no past to draw from, everthing I do, think or say will define me from now on; I will build my identity over time. But right now, at least I know what I needed to do. I slowly walked towards the park exit, conveniently marked by a nearby sign. I just hoped there will be some good places to eat nearby.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**Hey guys! I hope you like the first chapter of what is to be the novelization of one of the greatest flight-simulation games of all time. Reviews and CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM are greatly appreciated. Tell me if you liked this story, hated it, or want something changed, leave it in the reviews.**

**Thank you very much!**

**PasternakCFA44.**


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